


The First Kiss

by Snarkyowl



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, One sex mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 22:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19094614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarkyowl/pseuds/Snarkyowl
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley share their first kiss in a quiet moment during a surprise visit from Crowley.





	The First Kiss

When Aziraphale wanders to his small kitchen that morning there are many things he expects to see and on thing he doesn’t expect at all. Of course, with his very odd luck, that one thing is what he finds waiting for him as he shuffles in in nothing more than a robe. Today was going to be a relaxing day off, that’s what he’d planned for.  
He hadn’t planned for a visitor.

He certainly hadn’t planned for the visitor to be Crowley.

The demon, to his credit, looks somewhat apologetic as Aziraphale stares in mute shock at him. “Hello, angel,” he greets, something in his tone telling Zira that this is more than one of the demon’s usual drop ins. There’s meaning to this, and he’s left hoping it’s something good. He could do with something good, these days.  
“Sorry to drop in like this. I hadn’t planned to, it’s just- well- it’s silly is what it is.” Crowley turns his face away and Aziraphale is very suddenly struck with the realization that Crowley looks distinctly thinner than he usually does.  
“Are you alright?”

For all his claims of not being Crowley’s friend over the years, he knows all too well how untrue it is. If anything he’s Crowley’s best friend, and Crowley is his.  
If anything, really, he loves the demon, but he won’t ever admit that. Ever.

Maybe.

“No, angel, I don’t believe I really am. Right now, at least. I made cocoa. Or tried to. I’m still not as good as you are at making it.” Crowley offers a mug that Zira is happy to accept, taking a few testing sips and very nearly groaning at the flavor that graces his lips.  
“Perfect,” he mumbles into his mug, trying very hard not to blush at the fond look Crowley gives him.  
“Glad you think so.” Crowley hums, leaning back on the counter with a mug of his own cocoa in hand.

There’s a silence, and at first Zira dreads over having to be the one to break it. Then, Crowley speaks. “I’d like to stay here with you, for a while. If I could.” He doesn’t explain why, what’s happened, anything, but then again he never really has gone into detail when he’s in need. He’s embarrassed about it, Zira thinks.  
“You’re welcome to stay, dear. I’ve got a spare room and everything.” Zira makes sure he sounds happy to have Crowley staying (not that he isn’t, he just has to make it pronounced so the demon will hear it and believe it), smiling as widely as he can without it looking forced. Crowley returns the smile with his own little gentle smile, and while his eyes remain hidden behind his glasses Zira knows they’re glowing.

“Thank you, Aziraphale.” As always, it’s odd to hear the name roll off the demon’s tongue. Roll it does, though, and Aziraphale decides he’d quite like to hear it more often. He’d never want Crowley to stop saying angel, though. He’s grown quite attached to the endearment over the years.  
“Anything for you, dearest.” Zira says it all too sincerely and suddenly Crowley looks almost distraught before his face melts into something more relaxed once more.

“Angel?”  
“Yes, dear?”  
“May I do something a bit bold?”  
“Always, Crowley.”

Aziraphale has an idea of what’s coming as Crowley sets aside his cocoa and his glasses, as the demon takes a hesitant step into the angel’s space. Aziraphale sets his own mug down in response, nodding encouragingly when he catches Crowley’s hands nervously twitching at his sides.

Crowley finally reaches out to take Aziraphale’s face in his hands, looking as though he has just gotten his hands on something extremely precious. Then, in a moment that seems to last hours, he leans in and presses his lips to Zira’s. It is not a harsh kiss, it is not wanting or lusty or desperate. It’s gentle and loving, everything he had heard demon’s were incapable of.

It is not Crowley asking for something more, this isn’t a door opening to a day spent copulating like wild animals.  
This is Crowley’s confession, his love stated in one gesture because he has never been good with words. Not where emotions are concerned.

Zira melts into him, pressing close and returning the kiss with the gentle gusto he needs to to make Crowley understand his answer.

_I’m yours, darling. I’m yours._


End file.
